Macana of Mixcoatl
by Jacob R. Dring
Summary: Follow Lara Croft into the bowels of some Aztecan ruins to find mercenaries hired by nemesis Amanda Greene guarding her excavation to unearth the legendary 'Macana of Mixcoatl.' Reviews appreciated.
1. Cliffhanger

C**liffhanger**

Lara Croft leapt across a wide gap between her and another ledge. She sailed momentarily through the daytime air, her back against a horizon of light blue sky, cloudless with the glowing noon sun. Then her semi-gloved hands reached rock, where her fingers slammed into a gripping hold onto the ledge. Dust and pebbles from the auburn cliff sprinkled over Lara's fingers, while her booted feet pressed against a ledge just below her. Clutching tightly with her hands, Lara suddenly kicked forward—propelling herself in a front-flip motion. She found herself ten feet higher now, once again hanging from a slender edge. She slung another hand skyward—but, unfortunately, found no ledge. She hung now, with one hand suspending her, Lara's feet dangling below.

She took a moment, as though relaxing, and gazed towards the sky behind her. Sunlight glared into her audacious brown eyes, and a hawk glided by across the horizon. She grunted as she reached for the climbing axe holstered at her waist; retrieving it as quickly as she maneuvered herself, she managed to sling her free hand up above her—and find a crevice. The pick slammed into the slot of rock, where it lodged securely, giving Lara additional support. With axe in right hand and left holding onto ledge, Lara retracted her arms—muscles taut, feet climbing—attempting to reach her designation above. When the brunette finally got up to seize hold of another ledge, she heaved a heavy breath and let out a long sigh.

_"Couldn't you have brought a _grapple_, Lady Croft?"_ A male voice crackled over her headset COM Link. Lara sighed, threw her axe above her head and, again, landed the pick in yet another crevice. She made sure it was secure and not anywhat loose, then began pulling herself up again. She started to easily ascend her way up the cliff, which gradually curved inward, Lara responded, "Alister, if I wanted to make things _boring_, _then_ I would consider proper climbing equipment."

_"But, as _we_ know of you, you like the risk."_ This voice was a different one; not that of Alister Fletcher, Lara's friend and butler back at Croft Manor—but of a more hip young man. Zachary "Zip" Page, Lara's technical backup, friend, and often teaser.

"The…_risk_?" Lara grunted back, pulling herself up a few more meters.

_"Of _dying,_ Lady Croft."_ Alister murmured audibly over the line.

Lara's stout lips folded back as dimples formed and she let a wide smile spread across her face. With that, jaw clenched and sweat glistening over her skin, she took yet another swing of her axe at the rock above her. "It…isn't _risk_, gentlemen…but rather—"

Suddenly the pick of her axe hit a loose chunk of rock, and her weight on the tool caused her to fall. She managed to, luckily, grab a ledge and pull herself closer to the cliff as the chunk of rock tumbled down. It freefell just inches behind her back, while dust and pebbles sprinkled down over her head.

_"I'm sorry, what were you saying?"_ Alister snapped back, undoubtedly smiling.

Lara's smile had vanished for a moment, but it just now began to resurface. She shook her head, peering up over the ledge which she now hung. "I was _saying_, gentlemen, that…" Lara kicked herself momentarily free of the cliff, but only to hook the pick of the axe into a horizontal crevice five feet above her—and once again regain stability. "…this _may_ be, somewhat, of a _risk_—but, may I say, that I am—"

_"_Enthralled_?"_ Alister interrupted.

Lara shrugged the best she could to herself while cliffhanging, then nodded. "_Yes_, I suppose you could put it as that…"

_"Well,"_ Zip started, _you _are_ the 'Tomb Raider'—so I guess you're not _as crazy_ as it would make you seem."_

"So, then," Lara said, heaving herself upwards, "I am still considered somewhat '_crazy_'?"

_"Precisely."_ Alister added, and then—unknown to Lara—left Zip to 'monitor' her alone. _She's all up to _you_, now, Zip,_ Alister thought as he retracted.

Meanwhile, Lara climbed towards the ridgeline of the cliff—for it was now in her view. She holstered the climbing axe in her utility belt and reached for the cliff's upper ridge. Her fingers gripped a rocky surface, and she started to heave herself skyward. She lifted herself up, clutching the edge of the cliff, then brought herself to a handstand position—before gently flipping herself to the ground. Her booted feet clamped to the rocky earth, and there she viewed a partially blocked-off entrance to her goal: an ancient Aztecan structure.

"Made it." Lara said with a slight smile.

_"Oh, yes—I can see." _Zip replied; he had not only audio feedback, but also a microchip video camera attached on Lara's right shoulder-strap. It was fully water-resistant, durable against anything except subterranean levels and, of course, bullets.

Lara hopped up and over a thigh-high guardrail of block, feeling the soles of her sheathed feet slam into the rock-hard floor. She glanced back to take a final gaze at the noon horizon and the birds in the distance. She then turned back, letting the light fade from her view.


	2. Necropolis

N**ecropolis**

Lara now looked around her, as she stood within a wide cubby at the exterior of the structure. She glanced at the walls, but couldn't see much; she stood in shadows, despite the well-lit source behind. She approached a entrance about ten feet wide a few yards in front of her. There were two wooden yellow-and-black sawhorses planted in the entryway, with rectangular metallic signs hanging on both sides. In large white letters it clearly read: no trespassing. The sawhorses were a mere three feet tall; they apparently didn't provide any harmful means of 'keep out,' and seemed like they have been there for quite some time. Moss had already begun at the feet of the sawhorses, and vines were entangling their lengths. The white letters on the signs were worn down to about as much as they could take. Lara doubted that they would still stand if she merely poked one. She eyed the signs, looked around, and took an easy step over them.

_"You _never_ obey the signs, do you, Lara?"_ Zip said.

Lara sighed and snapped back, "I thought that this would be obvious by now, Zip…" Her eyes scanned the large roofless area in which she currently stood, towering walls creeping with moss and algae, once-hoary stone tainted a pale green. _This place has seen much rain,_ Lara thought, _and little company_. To her far right was a tall archway that led down a shadowy path—undoubtedly subterranean—and somewhere in front of her by many yards was another arching entryway; this one, however, led further upon the ancient compound.

_"Lara?"_ Zip's voice buzzed over the COM Link.

"Yes, Zip?" Lara asked, now looking at her feet. She already anticipated his question; it was as good as hers, except that _she_ had more comprehension of this than he. A yard before her was a foot-deep space dug into the stony earth. Clay and dirt could be seen around-in what they supposed was a sort of grave, if not worn down by the centuries, and it was in the shape of a block-lettered "L." Moreover was what lay _in_ it. A skeleton obviously human, ivory bones stripped completely of flesh, lying supine in the bed of soil. Lara felt herself staring down into the hollow eye sockets of the skeleton like they were the eternal pits of hell; she turned away for a moment. There wasn't a bit of flesh or blood anywhere known to Lara yet, but there still was that stench of decaying flesh which strangled her nostrils.

_"That was _human_, right?"_ Zip asked.

Lara nodded her head.

_"So…"_ Zip started up, again, now a sense of humor returning to his voice, _"…why then you turn away? Being that you're crazy and wild and all, I thought you may be _into_ this kind of stuff?"_

"Ugh," Lara sighed, returning view to the skeleton. She stepped forward and knelt down. "Get over yourself Zip." She paused, examining close-up-and-personal the skeleton. _We've seen _worse_ before, Zip—pull yourself together._ This skeleton laid on a quite shallow layer of clay and soil within the L-shaped grave; however, it was not the only one in the bed of earth. Another skeleton, Lara now saw as she peered forward, lay face-down in the dried mud—it, too, seemed reasonably human. Lara dare not touch it, though, for preserving reasons, respect, and the deep-down feeling that she simply wished _not_ to handle a human skeleton. She was a bit surprised that Zip hadn't commented on the _second_ skeleton, but she could clearly hear the exclamation when she found a canine corpse in the deepest end of the grave bed. Most striking was that it remained quite fleshy; much of the whitish bones of its raw skeleton could be seen, unfortunately through large gashes in its body and hunks of flesh removed. These slabs of flesh missing on the dog (Lara now recognized it as a gray _wolf_) seemed to have been savagely removed in a brutal manner Lara wished not to further investigate.

_"What the bloody hell _is_ that?__"_ Alister's voice came back online.

Lara shook her head in disgust and pulled away from the find. "Apparently a canine…_looks like_ a gray wolf, maybe—but I have no idea why it appears as _this_."

_"Fresh meat?"_Zip asked curiously. _"Or decaying leftovers?"_

Lara sighed, standing up and walking to her right of the grave. She began to circle it, then pulled her eyes away from the body. "Fresh…" That stench momentarily stifled her breath through her nostrils; "_quite_ fresh."

_"You be careful, Miss Croft."_ This was an altogether new voice that came smoothly over the COM Link. It was suave but had the clue of aging in its masculine tone; it was Winston Smith, Lara's primary butler, cook, and lifelong 'guardian.' He may be a much elderly man, of sixty-one, but he has showed superfluous loyalty and kindness to the Crofts ever since he was Lara's father's driver. Even now, he remained with gratitude for the wealthy Lara Croft (the last Croft in the family). _"I am just as aware as you are of the Aztecan mythological—and, most possibly, _realistic_—power. So, do be careful."_

"Don't you worry, Winston—I'll be a-okay." Lara smiled to herself. Her smile quickly evaporated as she headed for a length of wooden tables lined against one wall of the structure. The tables were about two feet wide and were firmly planted against the stone wall; doubled-up, sitting end-on-end, they reached a good thirteen feet long. On the first table to Lara's left lay, in pieces, yet another humanoid skeleton. Part of its skull rested on the wooden surface, its cranium severed diagonally just above the right brow and to the bare scalp; everything of its upperbody remained except a missing left arm. One-and-a-half legs were there, with a few small random bones scattered at the end. Lara observed them with little patience, hoping to leave the area soon, but figured that they were simply toes and fingers.

The next table was merely a large chunk of stone taken from anywhere in this compound of Aztec ruins. It was ringed with a band of some sort of stylized design, but nothing symbolic or significant to Lara's eyes.

_"Another meaningless hunk o' stone…"_ Zip murmured over the line.

"Very little is _meaningless_ here, Zip." Lara said. "Very little."

Now she faced two ways: one, to her far left, that led further through the ruins—or the one to her right which led _below_. She thought for a moment. _At least, if I went to my _left_…it would remain _above_—rather than going underground and risking…_

_"Decisions, decisions…"_ Alister sighed over the COM Link.

_"Well, if you go down-where-the-sun-don't-shine, then you risk losing touch with _me_—and, well, I know just how much you would dislike _that_." _Now Zip was being sarcastic.


	3. Getting Wet

G**etting ****W****et**

_Oh, what I would do for radio silence,_ Lara pondered, gazing skyward. Her eyes then caught something; it was a throng of clouds forming high above. They were slowly but gradually moving, gathering in the sky. They weren't ordinary day clouds either; they were ashen-lined, broad, _rain _clouds. The sky itself had already begun to darken to a pale blue, preparing to storm.

_"Getting worse by the minute, eh, Lara?"_ Zip said. _"And _now_ it's going to _storm_?"_

After waiting another minute a sound of light thunder arrived. It rumbled, but no lighting could be heard crackling anywhere. She waited another minute, and by then the first sprinkles came down. She felt one raindrop hit her in the scalp, then vanish as it was absorbed into her hair. More, now, hit the floor around her and sprinkled her body. She now jogged over to her quick decision.

"Not that I mind getting wet…" Lara said suavely, then passing through the archway. _But I would _love_ a few minutes of radio-silence._

Static quickly rushed over the COM Link, and Zip's voice crackled over the line. His tone was partially worried, but then quickly transformed into a steadiness. The only instability of his words was the accompanying static on the communications link.

_"Lara…lost…signal…"_ Zip's voice trailed out of audibility.

"Zip! _Zip_?" Lara's voice echoed in the tunnel.

His last words were something regarding her position, and then they faded and vanished into a cloud of static. Lara finally smiled with a sigh of relief. _Silence, at last._

She peered forward and down a slanting stone slab in which she stood on. It was quite dark in here, so she was cautious with her steps. The first foot forward went smoothly, then she dragged it downward—and her sole felt a ridge. _Stairs_. She now easily walked her way down, but still careful because of the shadows she was engulfed by.

Seconds later she felt her feet hit leveled stone, and was balanced. Despite the darkness, she could see, though barely, her hands in front of her and vaguely the walls around. So Lara took her right hand and ran its palms down the length of the stone wall. It was cold, partially rough—smoothened out by the moss and algae. Then her fingers hit something irregularly cold and strangely rough. She halted, turned, and faced the object; she squinted, then realized it was some sort of metallic box. She knocked on it, felt the roughness again, and presumed it to be rust. She looked up, feeling with her fingers too, and realized that thin pipes led upwards along the wall.

_Must be lights,_ Lara hoped. She felt doltish now for simply _forgetting_ about bringing her miniature flashlight.

She returned to the object of which she presumed was a sort of control box, and tried to pull it open. Apparently it was stuck, or—_locked_. Lara figured she would have to break it open, and reached for the climbing axe. She took it in one clutch, then—turning face away—slammed it pick-first into the rusty box. She hoped that she would hit the lock—if there indeed was one—and in doing so, succeeded. She was a brief second of flying sparks accompanied by a cloud metallic _clang_—then all fell silent again. Lara slid her axe back into its strap on her utility belt, then started to fiddle around with what she had now uncovered. Instead of expected wires and such, there were buttons. And a lever. She gripped the sheath-handled lever and shoved it upwards. There was a sudden flicker of white light, and then at last the fluorescent ceiling lamps lit up. The tunnel was no longer shadowed by darkness, but instead clearly light—more radiance than outside.

"Ah, now _that's_ better." Lara smiled, letting the control panel's metallic door hang open. She started down the heightened corridor of stone and ceiling lights, but of which was merely twenty feet down westbound. Before she knew it, though, she had turned the corner and started heading down a set of similar stairs—but only to arrive at the _exit_ and thus the end of her temporary 'moment of silence.' There, as she stepped off of the last staircase stone step—her booted foot landed on emerald earth. The grassy soil was stiff and yet a couple feet in front of her was a shallow stream of water. "Hmm…"

Lara took a couple steps forward, finally arriving in the stream. The water was completely clear, surprisingly clean despite the location. It flowed calmly and easily, with little force pushing behind the smooth waves. A mere four inches deep, it didn't even wet Lara's skin; instead it flowed against her high boots and dampened the rise of her white socks.

Her bare ears caught a gurgling sound in the vicinity, so she glanced at her immediate surroundings for any sort of gutter. And there it was, incredibly noticeable, a large arching gutter with thick metallic bars lining its height. It was about twenty feet long and a good twelve high, despite the shallowness of the water in which smoothly surged past its bars. Lara raised an eyebrow and approached it. She dragged her feet smoothly so that she wouldn't have to get her socks and thighs soaked in water. She arrived, peering through the many bars but sighting only darkness; it seemed quite hollow within, still grassy at he sides though, especially with the low-level of water. She gripped two of the rusted metallic bars in her hands, clenching fingers around their circumference, and tautened her arm muscles as she _pulled_. She shook them in all ways possible, but they didn't even budge. She expected these, especially as rusted and ancient as they would be, to at least rattle in their loosened stone sockets. But no.

Lara managed to slip one of her slender arms through two of the bars, but only reached up to her bicep.

_I probably _could_ squeeze through—if only it weren't for…_ Lara gazed down at her 36D chest. She shook her head with a sigh and slight smirk. Lara withdrew her arm carefully from the rusted bars and turned her back to the arching gutter. She made way towards the path she had come from, then turned and began down the stream of which reached further into the compound on this lower level. She spotted, as she approached a wide entry out into the open, a broken stone pillar in the near corner. The thick rectangular pillar was about eight feet long, but because it was severed towards the bottom the longest piece leaned diagonally against the planted section. Lara stopped at point-blank range to the stone, which—unlike the walls around her—appeared quite clean. No algae, vines, or even moss coated its surface. She touched it, running her fingers along the façade of the fallen pillar. Her fingers rose-and-fell, rose-and-fell as they crossed engraved Aztecan designed. The design seemed to be the same for every cubical of the wide pillar. She peeked around one of its corners, which was rigid with broken stone fragments, and realized that the design was indeed identical to each façade of the pillar.

Lara pondered why she was finding all these things so fascinating; she knew that it would be the same with any other ancient civilization—even the Romans. But, of course, Lara Croft had an ideal interest in Aztecan history—especially their mythology. She noted that this design was of a humanoid figure seated in a sort of throne—with other figures at his feet, and one was reaching up to him. Since it was colorless, of course, and not highly detailed, she figured it was a mere portrayal of a king ruling over his people…or, more possibly, depicting the Aztec's infamous trails of human sacrifice.

She shook her head, turned, and began to step out of the roofed potion of this level which she had been in. This portion of the first level was about half the length of a football field—fifty yards stretching over a ten-yard-width—with the shallow stream about six feet wide making its path as far as Lara could see…back under a roofed area, and then turning the corner. At each of Lara's sides were flat green banks sprouting grass and pre-spring buds in the corners.

After many steps she suddenly halted in her tracks, the drizzle above gently landing on her.

To her left was a natural stone ramp which led up about fifteen feet to the 'original' second level; near it were stacks of stone cubes, and by the faint designs on the facades they were Aztecan. But that wasn't why she now stood frozen with feet planted in the water. Her gorgeous eyes peered up at something planted on the stone wall hanging overhead the path preparing to reenter a roofed area…something _Lara_ pondered as 'beautiful.' It was a large rotund sort of badge, an Aztecan design no doubt, spreading across a pale-purplish colored stone. It didn't appear to protrude from the high stone wall at all, no more than an inch or so. The circular stone slab was engraved with high detail, not a square-centimeter left untouched by a kind of engraving. Lara's diagonal distance from her land position to its aerial was about thirty feet; she could tell its was a greatly detailed design, but couldn't quite make it out.

Still with her eyes flowing over the design at her frozen position, Lara's left hand groped for something on her utility belt. She retrieved a binocular device, which was actually a sort of camera. It was among many of Lara's gadgetry, called the ZoomCam, being basically a set of high-tech reconnaissance binoculars with the ability to take high-resolution pictures with ease and clarity—no matter the weather conditions.

_Too bad it's not bulletproof,_ Lara remembered Zip remarking.

She put it to her eyes and adjusted the visual, then got a clear up-close-and-personal view of the large badge. She clicked a tiny button on the right underside of the ZoomCam and she saw as numbers flashed onto the view screen-lens—horizontal and vertical digits flipping up-and-down, as if it were a matrix scanning a CPU. Then finally they stopped, and on the screen-lens two sets of numbers appeared: on a barely-visible green horizontal (x-) axis lay aside the number 11.4 and along the vertical (y-) axis was up-top the same number 11.4. These were the measurements, in feet, of the object.

Lara was amazed, slightly, at how the stone badge was not only a perfect circle, but also admiring the detail of the design. She thought she has seen it before, the symbol of a kind of sun with a vast maze-like design circling it, and didn't doubt that she had—afterall, she _does_ do her research.

Lara, still eyeing it through the ZoomCam, spoke into her headset: "Zip…" She waited a second. "_Zip_!"

Finally his voice returned to the COM Link, speaking speedily. "Yeah, yeah, what—what is it, Lara?"

Lara could hear him fumbling with tools and such over the line.

"I'm sending you a high-res shot of something I want you to look-up on…" Lara said, pressing in the shutter button up-top the ZoomCam. Within less than a split-second the picture was taken perfectly, and the digital photograph stored into the memory card of the device. She finally lowered the ZoomCam from her eyes, peered down at it, and flipped a switch on its left side; she waited a second and then held down a tiny button for three seconds. And, just like that, the image was digitally sent to Zip's desktop; it was already uploading as she spoke: "Oh, and Zip—"

"Yeah?"

"Get Winston to see if _he_ recognizes it, will you?"

"No problem."

"Thanks."

"Mhm."

"Now," Lara said, returning the ZoomCam back to its pocket on her belt, "get on that image…and get back to me as soon as possible…"

"Sure thing."

Lara's right index finger hovered over the mute button on the side of her headset. "Zip—one more thing."

Zip sighed audibly over the line.

"A bit more of my 'quiet time,' will you?" And just like that she muted her headset; now, if or when Zip wanted to talk to her, Lara would here a quiet buzz in her ear. She nodded to herself with an internal smile, and then headed onward.

The sprinkle of precipitation still rained onto her, dampening her ponytailed her and streaming down her arms and legs. She hunched herself forward a bit so that no blobs of rain would enter her shirt. _I _hate it_ when that happens_. Lara at last had removed her eyes from the eye-alluring badge design just now behind her—and was happy that she soon would be under a roof again.


	4. Encounter

E**ncounter**

Lara finally stepped one gentle foot forward and stretched her body out under a thick stone roof. She decided to get out of the water, heading towards the narrow bank to her right. She rested her back against the wall, running her fingers through her soaked brown hair.

Then she heard something.

Lara's head swiveled on her neck and she bolted her eyes upwards. A few yards ahead of her down the waterway path and above was a hanging wooden bridge. She took a couple steps forward and peeked up. She kept herself especially hidden when a wave of footsteps neared. She saw black—booted figures trotting their way across the uneasy bridge, toting submachine guns and assault rifles. She kept her hands to the wall and gawked upwards from just below the men. She counted each body as they moved across the bridge. The bridge was a little less than ten yards long and only a meter wide, so it suited for no more than a single person alongside one-another. However, this group obviously didn't care, at least, about the safety-payload on this ancient bridge; they came across in a hasty march, carrying their weapons and backpacks and radios and tools.

_These definitely are _not_ archaeologists…_ Lara thought, noting their weapons. Noting their clothing, and how more special-forces they seemed than police, she also disregarded them as site security.

Her right hand trailed off from the wall and halted at the protruding handle of her gun in its holster. Her fingers felt the smooth surface of the rubber grip shared with stainless steel, and went to pull on it when suddenly the men vanished through the arching entryway of the structure which the bridge led into. Her eyes had kept track of every pair of feet.

_Twenty-two_.

Definitely _not_ a good sign.

Lara's grasp on her right pistol was loosened and instead she brought it to her headset. She flicked off the mute and fingered the volume dial. Lara made sure that it was on a low setting and whispered into the mini-mic. She then barked into it, trying to be as quiet as possible but still audible: "_Zip_!"

Finally he came online again.

"Sorry 'bout that, Lara…just researchin' on—"

"It's fine Zip…" Lara thought for a moment. "Look, I have run into a bit of trouble, here…"

"Uh-huh…?"

"Trouble like, say—_men with guns_."

There was an exclamation over the COM Link. It settled down and then Zip apologized for Alister's reaction to Lara's words. Zip subsequently added, with a calm tone, "Well, _Lara_—I'm quite sure that _you_ will be able to handle yourself, eh?"

Lara heaved a long sigh, now with both hands at her pistols. The guns were resting in their black latex holsters attached to the straps secured around her upper thighs, just below the bottom-lining of her tight brown khaki shorts. Meanwhile, in the minuscule backpack she wore, strapped over her shoulders—which were clothed in a cerulean bellycut t-shirt—was a reloading system making things faster-and-easier. They were modified H&K UCP handguns, with extended thirty round magazines each and calibrated for the .45 rounds. Each was a blend of stainless steel and black plastic, a sort of rubber for better grip and similar on the lower stock and muzzle.

"I mean," Zip started, "how many were there? Five, ten…?"

"Twenty-two," Lara blurted. Zip exclaimed. He quickly settled, then started to say something when an idea popped into Lara's mind. She thought of something clever.

Zip began shooting remarks at Lara as she brought the miniature camera around to her back; there she clipped it to the rear of her left shoulder-strap. "You," Lara said, "will now be the eyes in the back of my head…"

"Clever girl," Lara heard Winston comment. Lara smiled.

"Too bad, now I won't get to see the action," Zip sighed. "_Nor_ hear it."

Lara paused as she started forward, pistols now in hands. She let out an audible sigh. "Zip, I've told you this before—"

Zip suddenly sensed it. "Lara!" He blurted. "Why did you remove the silencers!?"

Lara laughed quietly to herself. She peered around the corner, replying, "It takes the _fun_ out of things…besides, they're not _that_ loud."

Then Zip heard it. It blasted in his ear, echoed through the speakers. A single shot.

"_What_! What happened, Lara!?" Alister barked into the COM Link, leaning over Zip's shoulder. "Are you alright?"

Lara, meanwhile, smiled to herself. She lowered the gun, whose muzzle leaked a thin trail of rising smoke. She turned around and started walking, backwards, towards the area she had just released a shot. Zip peered into the PC screen and saw a heap of black lying near an arching gutter—with a hole made in it, through its vertical bars—and instantly realized that it was a body.

_"One bad guy down,__"_ Zip smirked.

Lara nodded her head, but kept her lips horizontal upon a straight face, undisturbed. And, unfortunately, looking slightly mad. She spun her head side-to-side, looking both ways, as she reversed down the shallow waterway. Both arms were completely outstretched, grasping each gun and pointing their muzzles in opposite direction at her sides. She finally reached the body, almost tripping over it. She hastily spun around and leaned over. Using her eyes and her eyes only, Lara inspected the man. Then she poked him with one of her guns. The man was wearing what appeared to be a sort of all-black outfit with face showing despite fallen helmet. Hell, he _looked_ like a counter-terrorist operative.

Lara thought about that. _CT? No way…_

She poked him again, and finally and he rolled over. Lara hadn't killed him; there was no way she would kill a man she hadn't a clue of his identity; only a _guess_. His Caucasian face was in pain, and his arms were reaching down to his feet. His gloved fingers clutched the wound on his shin. The blood leaked through his interior clothing and now spilled into the easy-flowing water.

"Why are you here?" Lara asked, glaring down into his squinting eyes. She pressed the warm muzzle of the same gun against his ear. She repeated the question, this time with gritted teeth showing.

The man took a few seconds before he replied. _Is this her? The 'Tomb Raider'? The one we were _warned_ about?_ He finally subsided with the pain and reached around to the FN Five-Seven handgun in his left holster. He eyed her outfit, finally resting with the probably fact that it was indeed the Tomb Raider. The _Lara Croft_. He decided to lie to her, as well.

"S-security." He replied, stammering.

"_Security_?" Lara's eyes widened. She went with it, for now.

Meanwhile, back at Zip's tech room in Croft Manor, he pressed his ear to the speakers but could hear only mumbling. Lara had the volume control, not him. And with the camera clipped to her back shoulder all he could see here was a cloudless sky.

"The rain's gone, at least." Zip said clearly into the COM Link.

Down at Lara's feet, lying there now with a pistol in his concealed left hand, was a man claiming to be the Aztec Ruins Site Security. Lara decided, in fact, to use that label; the New Mexico security for this site was indeed known as the ARSS, despite the 'unfriendly' pronunciation "arse." Besides, as well as anybody knew, the ARSS didn't wear all-black uniforms with Kevlar jackets and CT helmets capping their heads; nor did they tote professional SMGs and assault rifles.

"You?" Lara asked, standing up and withdrawing the pistol. "_You_ belong to ARSS?"

"Arse?" The man suddenly looked bewildered. "What's tha—"

Lara pulled the trigger, nailing a .45-caliber round into the man's left elbow. She had realized he was reaching for his sidearm the moment he shifted position. Lara wasn't dumb. In fact, she was _far_ from it. The man resultantly cried out in pain and them attempted to shout a loud holler—hoping to catch the attention of the rest of his squad. But, unfortunately for him, the last thing he saw was the sole of the woman's boot. He went unconscious.

Lara holstered her pistols and bent down to retrieved the H&K MP5A4. She fiddled momentarily with the submachine gun, then attached it to a supportive ring on the right side of her utility belt, just aft of the pistol holster. She didn't have any more storable capacity for another weapon. She took the Five-Seven pistol and unloaded it. She chucked the magazine far downstream behind her, then planted the pistol beneath the unconscious man.

Lara's new fascination was the gutter in front of her. She didn't have to analyze it in-detail to know what had happened. Besides, there were twenty-two armed men somewhere in the vicinity that undoubtedly heard the two gunshots from Lara's _un_suppressed UCP—and probably weren't very happy about her presence _and_ their downed man. Thus they were probably on their way right now.

So she quickly headed through the entryway made in the gutter's bars, passing them with plenty of room. Her hands, meanwhile, were at her sides—ready at any moment to draw her guns. Meanwhile, Zip leaned forward and squinted his eyes to make out what he was seeing. Lara had passed through the gutter with ease he realized, and now noticed why. The bars, about midway, were severed—and a faint orange light smoldered their ends.

"Bloody bastards," Zip mumbled.


	5. In Too Deep

I**n **T**oo **D**eep**

The adventurous Lara Croft had gone a bit further than she had meant to go as she slowly and cautiously made way down the shadowy gutter. She looked back, but only to see the light filtering through the scorched-past gutter gradually fading away. _You're in too deep, now, _she told herself.

And as if she needed to hear it again, Alister started blabbering over the COM Link…"You know, Lara—you've just about done it now. You came here to simply "adventure though the Aztecan ruins" and "do some up-close-and-personal research"…" He halted from quoting her earlier words when Zip's voice overcame the line: "Yeah, he's right…you've gone and shot someone, made your presence known to some twenty armed guys—and now venturing into who-knows-where." He paused. "You're in _way_ too deep to turn back now, Lara."

"Thanks for the heads-up, Zip," Lara said with a slight smile. "You, too Alister."

The stream that led through the gutter, whose current flowed in the opposite direction of Lara, was starting to get a few inches deeper. The amount of land on either side of the stream had dramatically decreased—someone walking there wouldn't have much stability as it was bumpy and very narrow. She was surrounded by darkness, shadows in every corner, but managed to see small details. And yet everything was so very quiet. The only noise audible to Lara's sensitive ears was the flowing of the water and her own breathing. She continued to drag every step, making little noise as she went.


	6. Angel of Darkness

A**ngel of **D**ar**k**ness**

Suddenly she heard something. Her eyes squinted as she slowed her steps and bent her knees a bit. Ahead of Lara by about thirty yards was a sign of life: bright lights lit up around a small shack planted on a rock in the middle of the wide stream. Moreover, her ears toned in…she separated the sounds individually, and made out voices of men, chatting about something. Lara's distance was elongated much to comprehend their murmuring words, but just as well heard laughter. She cautiously sidestepped until her soaked boots pressed into the uneven grassy earth. A couple feet onward, and she realized a complete change in architecture: what she walked upon was not longer grass, but instead full stone. Like what the walls and ceiling were made out of; same as outside. Ancient stone, now tainted a pale green due to the algae and moss.

Lara slowed her steps down as to increase her stealthy approach.

Her being surrounded by darkness helped, too—but many yards ahead she would be…temporarily, perhaps…revealed.

The group of men had their weapons hanging at their sides, clipped to utility belts. Sidearms rested in their holsters, their hands empty. Except for the Polaroid which was being passed around. It was a snapshot of a gorgeous woman, about 5'9" and 115 pounds. She had long dark brown hair, and in the photograph it was distinguished by a single braid which hung down to her belly, having been slung forward over her shoulder. A brown shirt showing a wide section of her belly was worn over her torso, with a white strip of material folding over what would be great cleavage. Thence was drawn most of the men's eyes: her large chest. But that wasn't the only striking feature of this woman, of course. The striking brown orbs which acted as her eyes were captured during a happy point of her life by the photograph; as with a slight smirk at one side of her mouth, where her plump lips creased back to form a minuscule smile. And below, fitted around her lowerbody, were a pair of a tight brown shorts—short enough to reveal the tops of her athletic thighs, where black straps inches below wielded holsters for archeology tools. A few inches below her knees were the black boots she had worn, with a bit of white sock folded over the tops.

"Damn…" whispered some of the men. They eyed over the photograph, and made crude pokes at the woman.

"So _this_ is "the Target"?" One man asked, passing on the picture. The circle of eight men were huddled together in their small guard shack.

"Uh-huh." Most of them replied with nods.

"She's more like an _angel_ than a potential threat." One man said, combing his thick blonde hair with his fingers. His blue eyes were fixed on the photograph, sizing up the woman's body.

He passed on the photo.

The next man remarked, "Too bad this ain't the real thing…"

They al laughed.

"An 'angel,' you said, Mark?" One guy asked aloud.

The blue-eyed blonde, Mark, lifted his head, reaching for the Glock 19 at his side. He nodded. "Yeah, man, she's _beautiful_."

"Fine as hell, too." One of them laughed.

Mark displayed a smile, his fingers fiddling with the weapon. He switched the safety off.

"Well as long as your _angel_ don't go jumpin' outta the shadows and—"

Lara had arrived just in time.

She fired off a wild round into the guard shack from behind a blonde man nearest a side window. One of the glass panes shattered and the ring of men shouted. Guns were whipped out, safeties switched, and glances exchanged.

Lara simply laughed to herself.

She rested her back against the plywood wall just below the window, holding both of her pistols up at her sides.

"Jesus Christ!" Mark had blurted as the bullet flew past his left ear and a spray of tiny glass splinters sprinkled into his hair. Across from him one of the guards had a bullet-hole between his eyes. Mark wasn't the only one that blurted some exclamation—whether it be the Lord's name or a strong curse word—and just as well wasn't the only one that dropped their heads to their laps. They were all ducking now, drawing their SMGs and pistols and making sure they were ready…ready, for whatever the hell was out there.

"What the hell was _that_?" One man hissed in a whisper.

The Asian man sitting next to Mark took his Type 05 submachine gun and stretched himself over the blonde's hunched back. Meanwhile the man nearest the open doorway took himself to a crouch and quietly trotted out the entry. He glanced both ways before making his path around the side.

Lara glanced up and smiled at the Asian man ready to pull the trigger on his silenced weapon. The last thing he saw, unfortunately, was the muzzle of Lara's UCP. She pulled the trigger and rolled to her right simultaneously; blood splattered the stone and she got off clean.

She could hear men screaming and cursing within the shack. She took a stance a few meters away from the shack, holding her pistols out to face the small structure. The Asian man's torso hung over the ledge of where the broken window frame was; blood and brains were oozing out of his forehead and ripping onto the stone floor. His submachine gun lay just below the window too.

Meanwhile most of the men inside fumbled with their weapons, cursed loudly and angrily, then at last managed to get out of the hut. Unfortunate for their own lives, they were immediately barraged with gunfire. One man, two man—dropped within seconds of the hail of bullets. And, ironically enough, it all came from that 'angel'—popping from the shadows to execute them all.

There Lara stood, legs spread a couple feet apart and as stiff as a stone pillar—holding out guns, both whose muzzle sprouted fresh smoke. Her eyes glared at the remaining men, now peaking behind wooden corners of the shed.

"Woo-hoo!" Some man abruptly hooted. "Now look who it is, boys!" The man laughed wildly, "_The Target_! The angel o' darkness!"

_"Seems like you just gained a few more nicknames, Lara."_ Zip murmured over the line.

Alister happened to be real close, too. "Hey, 'The Target'—do be careful, will you?"

Lara shook her head and sighed to herself.

Then she barked at the men, hiding behind the shack: "Why don't you call me by my _real_ name!" her voice suddenly dropped to a suave tone. "…and, stop hiding like boys and maybe come out here to—_talk_? Like _men_?" She let the corner of her mouth slip a smile. She was taunting them, alluring them, of course. And so much was she good at it.

One man stuck his head out from around the corner, but only to quickly fire his sidearm. It all happened so fast that not only did he miss—but _she_ did not. His limp body plopped to the stone floor, his gun still clenched in his lifeless fingers. Suddenly one spun around another corner to Lara's visible right, and—once again—Lara was too fast. She blew off two rounds, both walloping the man in his upper chest, just above the Kevlar vest. He gurgled on his own blood before collapsing to the floor.

"Enough of this…" Lara snarled to herself, and started for the cabin. One man made himself visible, but only to spray Lara's moving position with a hail of gunfire. She took a dive behind the side of the shack, rolling, then got to her feet, turned, and nailed a single shot to the man's forehead. He dropped to his back, dead.

Lara didn't know, but a mere one guard remained.

They were playing cat-and-mouse as they crouched and chased after each-other's tails around the shack. Then finally Lara wised up, spun on her heel, and headed the opposite direction. She came in contact with the short man clad in black including his Kevlar vest, toting a mere Beretta 92FS. He was shocked when they bumped into one-another, and his wild shot landed harmlessly in the stone beneath them—but subsequently he received an unexpected fist to the face. His nose cartilage snapped and bent under the force of the impact, blood squirting from his nostrils. He dropped his pistol and clutched his broken nose, bleeding, watering eyes and cursing.

"You _bitch_!—" He barked with an agonized voice, reaching with one hand for his handgun. She kicked it aside, letting it slip into the surging stream. Her right knee flung up and struck the man in his left cheek. His cheekbone twisted and there was an low _snap_. The man fell to his back, groping his pained face, pushing himself back with his feet.

"Now where are _you_ going?" Lara hissed, raising an eyebrow. She holstered her left gun, then brought to a lowered aim with the right. She pulled the trigger: once, twice. The man would surely die from loss of blood in less than half an hour, having added two blown-out knees to his pain.

Lara was indeed being unusually cruel today, it seemed. Normally she would simply kill someone who opposed her—often taunting them first—_or_, if necessary, keep them alive by knocking them unconscious or leaving them temporarily incapacitated.

She took a kneel beside him, the unarmed man with curly blonde hair, unable to move except squirm helplessly. His angered tone which he had exclaimed at Lara a minute ago now turned to a whine for pity. _Mercy_. "Please! _Please_! Don't' kill me, _don't kill me_!" He panted, propping himself up on his elbows. He had a point-blank available shot at Lara with his body, but didn't dare attempt it. He knew better. It seemed ironically unfortunate that Mark had previously admired the woman in the Polaroid for her beauty—and was now about to die by her hands.

He was lucky, though, that Lara Croft was a subject for mercy.

"Tell me what I need to know," Lara said, squatting with one arm resting on her left thigh while the other trained the gun on him. "Then your life will be spared…" she shrugged with a minuscule smile, "…unless, of course, we see each other again—then I may not help it."

There was a brief pause as the blonde-headed man glanced down-and-around, then finally lifted his head to look at his opponent. His blue eyes locked onto her brown ones and there they sat in silence. The sudden _click_ of the UCP's hammer made Mark jump, then respond to Lara's 'offer' with a hurried nod.

"_Why_, exactly, are you here?" Lara asked, then quickly added, "And don't tell me you're _security_."

Mark shook his head; sweat dripped down his cheeks and his eyes continued to water at the inner corners. He finally replied, his eyes now glancing between Lara's eyes and the gun, "Security? ARSS?"

Lara smiled, and Mark actually displayed a slight one back. He went on, trembling, "No, we're not _security_…we, I, am…um…"

"Go on."

"The, uh, defense squad commanded by Ms. Greene." He paused. Mark bowed his head and waited, as though Lara was supposed to recognize the name. At first the last name registered in her mind, and she _did_, in fact, recognize it—but doubted that it was the same one. _No, she dies years ago…_ "Um, _Amanda _Greene…she—"

Mark abruptly stopped in his speech, realizing that this woman—_the Target_—had realized it.

Lara's mind flashed back to Amanda Greene, one of her first and best of friends back when she was a young adult. They were at the university together, colleagues, especially bounded by interests in archeology; then, one time, they got lost in the Amazon and their raft tumbled off a waterfall. Lara had fortunately escaped in time, but her attempt to save Amanda—whose foot had caught onto the raft—was too short. She presumed, of course, Amanda dead, and even waited and watched for Amanda at the base of the waterfall for half an hour. _Impossible…_

"Anyhow," Mark continued. His voice suddenly brought Lara back into presence. "She has bought an entire militia—"

"_Bought_?" Lara exclaimed. "So you're _mercenaries_?"

Mark shrugged. His trembling had ceased; his pain, had not though. "No, not really—we're just to act as her own security—like bodyguards."

Lara grunted. "Bodyguards wearing Kevlar and toting assault rifles and—"

"Well, _yeah_…I mean, she not only mentioned that what we're after may provoke the 'ancient ancestors of the Aztec,' whatever the hell that means, but, moreover…draw _your_ attention."

"_Me_?"

"You are, the, um…"Tomb Raider," right? Lara something-or-other?" He paused. "Ms. Greene gave us a photograph, must've been a couple years old, that had you in it—she said that you were 'an old friend'…that, 'cannot be trusted'—and thus told us to shoot you on sight."

"So, you all believed her—that I'm dangerous and a threat to _her_?"

"Well," Mark said, creeping a small smile onto the corner of his mouth, "you _are_ certainly dangerous…"

Lara shrugged. "Also, you said that she is after something…I mean, _obviously_." Lara paused. She didn't have a clue as to _what_ Amanda might actually be after…and wasn't sure how perilous it is.

"I don't remember exactly."

It now seemed like the two had become _friends_.

"_Think_." Lara said, jaws clenched.

It wasn't for a few seconds until Mark came up with something from his memory. "The, uh, _Macana_…the, Macana of…of…"

"_Macana_?" Lara said into her headset.

Zip came online again. _"Sorry, Lara—Alister and I have been listening and, vaguely, _watching_ your performance for some time now…"_

_"Yes,"_ Alister said, _"it's quite interesting."_

Lara sighed to herself. She loosened her grip on the pistol and let the hammer down gently. "Zip, I need you to search up on _macana_." Lara said clearly. "Ma-ca-na…I suppose m-a-c-a—"

_"Yeah, yeah, I got it Lara."_ Zip blurted. _"Talk to you later—"_ he went offline.

Then Lara spotted something. She glanced up and spotted a huge throng of shadowed figures approaching. Water flashed about at their bases.

"Looks like you have _backup_…" Lara said, withdrawing her gun and holstering it.

Mark sighed. "What…what are you going to do?"

"To _you_?" Lara sighed. "Nothing—unless, like I said, I see you again and you're holding a gun at me." The blonde man shook his head. "Good," Lara smiled. She thought for a moment, glancing down at Mark's utility belt; no grenades. The only thing that _she_ had was a Flashbang and a smoke grenade.

"Have any friends that might be in that group?" Lara asked, groping for her Flashbang grenade. Her eyes remained just above Mark's head—so that she could keep sight of him and the approaching men behind him.

Mark shook his head. "I have no friends here—they're all jerks anyways."

Lara was beginning to like this guy. _Too bad I blew out his knees. _

"Good," Lara said, then let out a sigh. "Be right back…"

Lara lifted the flashbang grenade, unclipped the ring, and tossed it forward. The instant it left her hand she slammed shut her eyelids; her feet kept going, though, her legs continuing to drive her forward. There was a sudden flash of incredibly-bright white light, and the bang of the grenade knocked two of the nearest men unconscious. When Lara opened her eyelids again, she saw the brilliance of the flashbang fade away; nonetheless, the men that had been unexpectedly exposed to it remained bedazzled. Even this close, Lara's eyes couldn't adjust to the darkness shrouding them—but could clearly make out their positions as with the silhouettes of their heads.

Lara halted on her left foot then spun around like a top, her right leg straightened out; her outstretched foot slammed into the face of one of the men, knocking him clean off his feet. She ducked as a gunshot sounded, then landed her foot into another's stomach. He flew back, twisted in midair, and landed in the stream. He struggled to get up, while two more men were knocked down by Lara's physical force. Then she unclipped her SMG, took double clutch of it, crouched—and held the trigger. 9mm bullet-after-bullet hosed out of the accurate medium-ranged weapon as she battered the area in front of her with gunfire. She had the weapon aimed up at a fair diagonal angle so that she wouldn't have to deal with Kevlar.

Finally the submachine gun started _click_ing—as it had run out of ammunition.

Lara didn't have any extra magazines for the MP5A4 and she didn't feel like toting it around until she relocated more. So she dropped it right then and there, realized that not a single man remained standing, and headed back the way she had come.

She skidded to halt next to the guard shack. Blondie wasn't anywhere in sight; Lara threw a quick glance to her left—seeing that his gun was no longer in the stream; either it went with the flow of the water—or he somehow managed to leave with it as hastily as he did. Lara shook her head and sighed.

_"Lara,"_ Zip.

"Yes?" Lara said, entering the guard shack. She recovered nothing of any use—except some canteen bottles and sandwiches.

_"I looked up your so-called _macana_."_

Lara had already remembered what it was from her prior Aztecan researches. "It's a type of wooden sword used by the Aztec army, lined with shards of obsidian…right?"

Lara heard a deep exhale over the COM Link. She smiled.

_"_Yes_, Lara—you are __ind__eed correct…yet-again."_

"I try my best…" Lara smirked, exiting the shack. She looked around, then found a wooden ramp inserted just over the edge of a small cliff behind the guard shack. She trotted carefully down it, noting a thin trail of fresh blood going the length of the plywood.

_Blondie_, she thought to herself.


	7. Tunneling

T**unneling**

Lara wasn't sure whether she could have trusted that man back there—him having 'run' off as quickly as he managed. But now she followed his fading trail of blood—with a gradual pace showing pure patience.

_"Maybe you should—speed it up a little? Eh?"_ Zip's voice came over on her headset.

"Or…_not_?"

_"But, remember, Lara…you aren't a _ghost_—so don't doubt that you don't have a trace on you already."_

"I took care of them back there," Lara replied, hazily.

_"Yeah? And how many were there?…"_ Zip paused. _"Oh, say—_twenty_?"_

Lara's eyes widened. She shook her head and started a jog.

_"That's better."_

There was a long pause as Lara's booted feet stomped the stone banking the right side of the ongoing stream while she heard Zip's heavy breathing over the COM Link.

_"So…what of this 'macana' thing, Lara?"_

Lara paused in speech, her legs keep working. She thought for a moment, then responded, "Well, a "macana" is a term used for a sword wielded by Aztec soldiers many years ago. It had a hard wooden blade that was lined with shards of obsidian—making it a quite-lethal weapon. Especially at that time, for the ancient civilization." Lara's muscles began to tire, and she gradually decreased her speed. "If I remember correct, they were about two feet long—not a very large weapon…and besides, since they were indeed a common weapon amongst the Aztec army, that and if Amanda is going after it—it _must_ be connected to some sort of higher power."

_"Like a myth or legend, tying with the sword…?"_

"I suppose," Lara said. She finally stopped running. "Zip, I know you had a topside layout of this site—but would you happen to have a subterranean blueprint of it?"

_"__Nah, sorry Lara…I don't have any _at the moment_…"_

"But would you maybe then be able to…"

_"Hack in the ARSS's systems?"_

Lara smiled to herself. As though he could see her clearly, Zip quickly got to it.

The thirty-two year-old Tomb Raider rested her back against the wall, breathing heavily, hands pressing against thighs.

_"You alright, Lara?"_ Zip's voice came through the COM Link, but still with that familiar sound of fingers tapping the keyboard accompanying.

"Yeah, yes I'm fine…just a bit tired."

Suddenly she felt the earth rumble all out through the stone and stretch up her legs. Lara was startled and jumped, glancing both ways. _What the hell was _that

_"Whoa!"_ Zip blurted over the line. _"What was that?"_ Zip had seen the camera suddenly rock around and heard a low-toned tremor through the speakers.

"I dunno." Lara replied honestly. "And I gotta go figure out—" The rumble had ceased by now and good for Lara—because she was back to running. She got her legs working again and her feet pacing. Her long braided ponytail whipped from side-to-side along her back while her boots kicked-up loose dirt from the stone floor. Within seconds the darkness around her suddenly lit up with the aid of portable lamps placed at the edge of the walls to each of her sides. They provided not much light, dimly too, but it was better than being completely shrouded in shadows.

Then Lara gasped as her feet shot to the side and the boots caught a crack in the stone—letting her slide to a halt. Dust arose from the floor, clouding around her shins.

Mere inches in front of her was a set of stone stairs—a natural staircase at that—which stretched down a good few yards. It would have been a steep surprise tumble down the stairs if it weren't for the lights, and Lara hadn't paid attention. She now waltzed down the steps, still moving her feet speedily while her guns rattled slightly in their holsters at her hips. Once her boots landed on the level floor she started-up again, her legs' muscles tautening but moving—propelling herself forward.

After a minute of pure _running_, Lara slid around a wide corner—and found herself coming to a screeching halt.

"I'll get back to you, Zip…" Lara murmured, and before Zip could say anything she flicked off the power of the headset. No matter how urgent Zip wanted to contact Lara, she was the only one that could re-regulate the communications. What she now saw before her stunned the woman more than anything this evening; a couple meters in front of her was a set of lethal traps that made her eyes widen at the sight—and sitting with his back against the wall just near the first was something that drew more of her attention.

_Blondie._

"Look who it is," Lara hissed, her elbows pointing out with fingers hovering over the pistols at her sides. "Now, tell me something—_what are you doing_?"

Mark glanced down helplessly. He seemed fatigued beyond reason, the pain having passed away by now—the dried blood blotching the knees of his pants. There was no gun in his clutches, but Lara didn't know for sure whether he had a weapon on him or not. And after his sudden disappearance back there—she couldn't trust him much anymore.

The instant Mark looked away from Lara and into the lining of traps, she whipped out her right pistol—and held it a foot away from his face. "Are you unarmed?"

He nodded, starting to return his gaze to her, but stopped. He now stared at the wall before him.

She took one step forward, and Mark resultantly turned his head to her—except now, as he looked up at her, he stared down the barrel of the UCP. She asked him again, this time with a hint of more severity in her tone. Once again, this time keeping his blue eyes locked onto her—peering over the muzzle of the gun—he nodded, intently.

Lara waited a second. Her eyes remained on him. She finally withdrew the gun and slipped it back into its holster.

"So—why'd you run off back there?"

"Hmph…more like _crawl_ away—after what you did to me." He shot a glance down at his legs.

"Not like I had a choice—your comrades…_you_…were trying to kill me."

"You're the one that fired first—"

Lara rolled her eyes and heaved a long sigh.

"Sorry…" he murmured; "…if I had known that you were like _this_ before—I would have never took the job."

"One thing…_how much_ does she pay you guys?"

He shook his head. "Don't even ask."

"Okay…" Lara glanced behind her, then back down at him. "And, second…what do you mean by 'like this'?"

Mark took a couple seconds to respond. He eyed her over. "Well, like—_you_."

Lara raised an eyebrow.

"I mean, we didn't get the photo of you 'til just a few minutes ago back at the guard post…and I really couldn't believe that you—Amanda described as the notorious "Tomb Raider"—would be so incredibly beautiful."

There was a burp of laughter over the COM Link. _"You hear that, Lara? Now you're _notorious_!"_

Lara hid a smile from Mark at the reaction to Zip's remark, then began to say something but Mark kept on it, "And when he noted you as an _old friend_—I could only expect you to be some kind of brute for leaving _her_."

_Amanda?_

"Well…" Lara was going to say 'thank you' but figured it too polite.

"And, to add to it, you're so unbelievably polite here—I mean, despite our initial encounter."

Lara shrugged.

"Anyhow…"

"Tell me one thing—_why_, exactly then, did you scramble off in the first place?"

"I…" He stuttered. "I wasn't sure yet if you were for-real about not killing me or not."

"Well—now you _can_be sure," she said, sneaking a hint of a smile at the corner of her mouth.

"Now, tell me something else…where are you planning to go, especially with _these_ blocking your path?" She raised her eyebrows, eyes widened. "Hm?"

"Well…since I never went _with_ Amanda, I _heard_ that her and her men went down these tunnels and into a large room around the far corner—" he pointed in the continuing direction, "—during which these traps were, uh, not on."

"Not _on_?"

"Yeah—they weren't working, open, letting anyone walk easily through." He sighed, "But, once Amanda reached inside, somehow she was able to control the traps—sealing off the area…who knows what they're doing now—and as for that, there's no way _I_ can easily get pas these things."

"_Easily_?"

He shrugged, shooting a sharp gaze into her eyes, "Well, I was hoping…I mean, since you _are_ the so-called 'tomb raider'…and,…"

Lara's eyes darted around her immediate surroundings, then back forward to the traps in front of her. The walls on either side of the stone corridor were extended about a yard out from the original wall—forming long, rectangular blocks of grey stone resembling half trapezoids at front face. Lara first noted the possible 'capacity' up-top, whereas their narrow but level tops were a good six or seven feet below the high ceiling; and, secondly, the length of this trap: the two walls seemed equal in all proportions, so the lethal trap—Lara judged with her eyes—was approximately fifteen yards long. Indeed she was correct—but, now for the hard part: the actual _trap_. The lethality of the trap easily risked Lara's legs getting severed…or, not to mention, her entire torso halved.

Lara took a moment to analyze the trap—aware that she probably was being tailed right about now—and, amazingly, found a way within seconds.

"Well then this is your lucky day…"

_Not really…_ Mark thought, concurrently pondering what Lara was about to do.

"What is your name?" Lara asked. "Since you already know that I'm _Lara_—and, hopefully, I can now trust you…"

"Mark." He replied.

"Hm…okay, _Mark_—I'm going to need all your strength and trust in me for what I'm going to do…alright?"

Mark glanced to his left, behind Lara. He could have sworn he heard approaching footsteps.

"Okay."

Lara analyzed, again, the trap.

The protruding wall to her left had a thin slit in it that stretched the length of the stone—very near the top of its height. Out of it was a hand-sized brass disc with five sharp and curved razors circling it like a bladed Frisbee; the rotary blades spun at a fast rate while it gradually ran down the length of the stone. Once at the ends, it would vanish into the stone—then reappear, quickly, at the other end. The same thing occurred at the protruding wall to her right, except this one was—instead of the other's chest-height—just inches away from the floor. The scant room between the passing blades was definitely not enough space for any of Lara's skilled moves; instead, Lara had found a much easier way of passing this trap other than placing rhythmic jumps between the blades.

Before Mark's eyes, Lara performed it.

She waited until the lowest rotary disc—about at ankle's height on her right side—had approached nearest her, then she took a long step forward, placing her right foot atop the mobile disc. As swiftly as she could, so she didn't risk slipping or getting the other blades cut into her torso—Lara sprang forward and upward, her semi-gloved hands slapping the roof of the stone. She caught on, quickly pulling her legs up and clear of the crisscrossing blades, then exhaled deeply as she lay supine on the slender roof of the stone.

"Lara?" Mark called out, managing to stand, but only by grabbing at the cracks in the wall behind him.

Lara let out a long sigh, pursing her lips, then flipped over unto her belly. She went to her knees and crawled across the top—until she got back to the end which she had begun. She held a hand down, then two, in order to help Mark up atop where she was. It took some time, but with Lara's manly strength and Mark's cooperation they managed to haul him up.

Unfortunately, they got some trouble as Lara was helping to lift his legs up onto the stone.

Men clad in black toting sidearms and submachine guns arrived just around the corner, their eyes fierce with rage. Two of the five men had blood leaking from their nostrils or a bleeding lip; the other just appeared quite sore.

_Hello, boys._ Lara's brows lowered and her eyes sharpened with her own fury. Just as Mark managed to get atop the stone, and Lara had unholstered her left pistol—a single report sounded.

A thin layer of blood spilled over Mark's lower lip. He stared up at Lara and tried to say something. She thought it was "good luck" but couldn't comprehend. Lara gripped his shoulder with her right hand and peered over him; square in the back of his neck was a large blotch of crimson. His body went limp on her just then, his eyes still open.

"Sorry," she mumbled, lowering her fingers to his eyes and shutting them. She didn't want to get too dramatic here, seeming how she did not know the man long enough to gain any sort of connections—but there had been trust, at least, and that was enough for anything.

The man that had fired the shot held his IMI Desert Eagle at aim towards Lara and the now-lifeless Mark—its stainless steel muzzle sprouting a thin stack of smoke.

"_Traitor_," he snarled.

Lara cursed at herself and barked as she slung forth her own pistol and popped off a few rounds. The man got off one round before his throat erupted in a bloody mess, but it went harmlessly into the stone ceiling. Meanwhile Lara apologized, in her mind, to Mark as his body was battered with bullets while Lara crawled away. It was difficult, however, because of a few reasons: one, although she has gotten quite used to it by now, was her chest size; two, the rough stone beneath her; three, the hail of bullets behind her—and, of course, four: the rotary blades just below to her left that would chop her up in seconds.

Yet nonetheless, Lara Croft managed to reach the other side without a single bullet-hole in her. Barely even a scratch.

She landed on her feet, planting them steadily there with her back against the stone. Meanwhile, at last, the gunfire had ceased—but now it was refilled with curses and shouts as they had the need to pass the trap…and get to Lara. Afterall, to them she is _the Target_.

Lara heaved a long sigh, with just one of her pistols up at her side, and thought of what to do next. In front of her by less than a meter was the next trap a twenty-something-foot-long wide 'n open stretch of corridor. Lara just _knew_ that it wasn't 'clean.' There was a fleshless skull, as white as could be although coated with dust, lying a couple inches in front of her. Lara took a swift nudge at it—kicking it forward. It hopped up into the air, then landed and rolled over the empty hallway. Suddenly the earth shook and within a split-second the floor separating straight down the middle, severing it into two halves—those of which flapped downward and gave way to an abyss below. Lara took a single, cautious step forward—and peered down. Through the shadows she saw a row of rotating cylindrical devices, tightly placed in the confined but large space, making the similar sound of an engine's gears turning. Moreover were the large triangular spikes lining the edges of these things; and even though they looked rusted with age, of course, they seemed quite durable—and, if the _fall_ didn't kill you, the blades would.

Lara winced.

Suddenly there was a wail of pain behind her. Lara glanced back around the corner of the protruding stone wall and saw a vile mess: one of the men had attempted to pass the rotary blades, and failed miserably. He now was in multiple pieces, fluid strands of blood splashing about as his agonized groan finally died away and what was left of his body dropped and went still. Lara cringed at the sight, totally repulsed.

She looked around the area before her—where, if she waited any longer—she would either fall prey to those below or to the bullets behind her.

Lara quickly spun on her heel, shot five wild rounds back the way whence she came—and was lucky and killed one of the men. There remained just two left now, struggling to pass the trap and reach Lara. One of them hipped his SMG and hosed down Lara's position with 9mm rounds. Most just ricocheted off of the rotary blades or missed Lara completely; Lara had returned to her back at the stone and her pistol in its holster. Before delaying any longer, Lara made her decision.

_The stone better be stable enough…_

Lara took two steps forward and _leapt_. She spun her body sideways so that she faced the right wall—and as she flew through the air, then dropped, her arms reached out, fingers reaching…

When she finally fell, her palms and fingers slammed into stone. Thumbs locked on the underside of the very narrow ledge, and her fingers held on for their lives. Her legs hung down, just about ten feet from the invitation to her death, but Lara didn't wish to keep on hanging forever. She quickly got going, moving along the slender ledge, ages old, hoping that it would hold her 115 pounds until she got to the other side. And then, about halfway, the vine-strung stone began to crackle. Lara suddenly halted, glanced back to her right, and watched as chunks of stone fell from the ledge—and thus it began to give way. Lara's heart jolted and she started moving—_fast_. She swung her arms side-to-side, moving along the gradually-crumbling ledge as though on monkey-bars.

Finally Lara felt a breeze of relief as she reached the other side. She swung her legs up and caught the ledge of the floor; Lara managed to get level and away from the risk of falling to her death—now rolling on her back from the dooming abyss.

Lara quickly got to her feet, whipped out both her pistols, and turned to face the way she had come. Across the seventeen yard-long gap of floor and through the rotary bladed-trap, she eyeballed the two remaining men attempting to catch-up. And yet even as one man attempted to do what Lara had done before, she didn't flinch at the possibility of him making it. Because, for one—he would _not_ make it; and two, if he somehow _did_, he would then have to face the gap before Lara that would prove impossible…afterall, not a single ledge remained at either side, even though if one did it would by no way be able to support _their_ weight.

And then he _did_ make it—somehow, some way…and was now crawling across the top of the protruding stone wall. But when the other one attempted it, he got severed at the waist—his lowerbody falling forward as his torso flew backwards, all bloodied. Lara did not like the sight of it, and once again felt revolted. Yet even with his comrade down in a gory mess, that one—with a broken nose—continued onward. Lara managed a small smile and waved at him with her right hand,. Still clutching the pistol.

The man looked pissed, and so he was. He barked some curse at Lara, and sped-up his crawling. Nonetheless, Lara simply turned around and calmly began walking around the following corner. She had completely forgotten about her headset being turned off, something that happens during great moments of near-death, when her heart beats through her chest and her brain thuds against her temples…

She thought she was over that now, though.


	8. The Macana of Mixcoatl

T**he **M**acana of **M**ixcoatl**

The moment she neared rounding the widely curved corner, she heard something sharp. The strident tone was sudden and animalistic, like that of a cat. Lara's arms held up—still aiming her pistols—her feet moved herself forward.

The beast hit her square in the chest, knocking her backwards. Lara lifted her right leg and managed to put her booted foot in-between her and the jaguar. Meanwhile the feral feline hissed with gaping jaws over Lara's face, those canines stringing saliva just inches away. She glared back into its own golden eyes, then gave an abrupt kick. The jaguar was sent flying through the air, then landed on its side and whimpered as it rolled over. But when it got to its feet and went for a pounce—claws outstretched with heavy paws—four shots were fired. There was a shrill whine an instant later, just before the jaguar collapsed in midair unto the stone floor with a _thump_. Three .45-caliber rounds were lodged into its abdomen, while another in the stone wall two meters behind its lifeless body.

Lara shook her head as she stepped over it.

Then she saw it: the gate Mark had earlier mentioned. It was a simple arched gate made out of wooden spears, with shards of bone along their edges. The gate was slammed shut down into the earth, where its pointed tips were dug deep into the loosened stone. Unfortunately for Lara, it was there and wasn't going to move unless the person within the large room for which it contained would activate its opening.

Lara peered from a distance through the 'bars'—spotting only the lower half of a pair of legs standing atop a wide stone platform against the far side of the room…and half a dozen men that _she_ could see, patrolling around pointlessly. No one saw her. She was surprised no one had come out to check what the shots and noises have been. Lara probably supposed that it was just 'the Target' being taken down.

_Guess again._

Lara got an idea. She needed to work quickly, though, she was sick of waiting. She wanted, _needed_, to see if it was really her long-lost friend Amanda Greene.

She fired off five consecutive rounds, quickly and in no attempt to suppress them. And as she did so, she let out fake screams of pain and curses.

Lara heard a feminine voice from within; she didn't fully comprehend it, but she did have a good guess as to what was being done. She hastily reloaded her pistols, letting the empty magazines fall to the stone floor, then holstered one…and snuck behind a large chunk of stone a few feet from the gate. There she crouched, out of sight, and _waited_.

A few seconds later and she heard the gate withdrew; and so it did, vanishing up into the ceiling of ancient stone. Lara's ears toned in and heard, clearly, approaching footsteps. Into her view, to her immediate left, was a pair of black-clad legs. They bent and a man knelt down, retrieving two pistol clips lying at his feet. The second her turned his head to see the attractive Lara Croft crouching right there, it was too late for him. He took enough time with his eyes widening and fumbling for the trigger of his MP5A4, while Lara simply leapt up to her feet, got behind him, and held him in a hostage position. She snatched his SMG from his hands, clipping it—again—to her utility belt, and then held him hostage—with pistol in right hand, muzzle pressed against temple.

The man was helpless.

"Do _not_ move—and I probably won't shoot you." Lara whispered into his ear. She held him closely to her, something she even now despised because of her chest prodding into his back—something this man may even like. _He's a merc—they're _all_ the same._ Then she reconsidered about Mark.

He simply nodded, took a big gulp, and voluntarily moved his feet forward with Lara's own. They slowly and cautiously passed under the open gate.

A deep gasp seemed to spread without the enclosed room. Suddenly the gate closed behind them, and Lara stepped forward—moving with her hostage.

There was a impulsive sound of plastics slicking all around Lara as more than a dozen armed men shouldered their weapons and prepared to fire. Lara kept her eyes glaring upwards, concentrated on her primary 'target.' Thus she didn't know just how many men she faced, all well armed and dangerous, but had the estimation of about fifteen.

To each of her immediate sides in the large underground stonewalled room were three men toting the same type of submachine gun: the common H&K MP5A4. They all had it trained on her—and her hostage—their fingers hovering at the triggers, but awaiting _command_ to fire.

Below the big stone platform, which was more green than grey with aging foliage, steadily stood two more men with weapons shouldered and eyes heavily trained on their interloper. One held a Benelli M1 shotgun while the other shouldered an M16A2; they stood at either end of a row of crates containing tools, weapons, and ammunition. Lara spotted this, even; she especially noted the one labeled in large block letters ammo. Another one she detected was a similar wooden crate with its lid slid ajar; on its façade were the universal letters tnt scrawled in black paint. _Why all this? __To uncover an _artifact Lara thought. Then she remembered something from one of her earlier adventures discovering the Cradle of Life and Pandora's Box. _Some things lost are _not_ meant to be found._

Then, most prominent to Lara, were those whom occupied the overhanging edge of the stone platform. The platform itself appeared as though it had once stretched all the way across the room, for where the beings now stood was jagged-edged, like it had crumbled off. The rounded natural dais seemed quite sturdy to Lara, despite the crumbled staircases at either end.

Six more men peered down over the ledge, each identical to the others—clad in black, like professional CT members—with weapons shouldered and fixated aiming. Two on the platform's facing left carried M16A2s and the next an SA-80. The other three stood a couple meters aside from the others; one had shouldered his SA-80 and the second a Benelli M1. The third, meanwhile, stood closest to Lara's fixated objective. The man was wielding an unusual weapon for this kind of so-called 'security' work of mercenaries, a standout .57 Magnum revolver. The stainless-steel handgun was trained on Lara's forehead from this distance even, and the weight of the weapon was no doubt difficult for the man to maintain one-handed control as he currently did. His face was more standout than the other men, with broad cheekbones and distinguished lips, a head full of plush red-orange hair and dazzling emerald eyes.

Lara's mind found him to be gorgeous; she pushed that thought back, however, and realized then that it was probably the reason he and she had been talking as Lara had entered.

_She_?

Amanda Greene.

The 5'7" woman stood there in the middle of the separated six men atop the stone platform, looking as stirringly attractive as she had the last time Lara saw her. And yet Lara's eyes took some time to accustom to Amanda's inimitable appearance. Her blonde hair was no longer golden-yellow and lush down to her chest, but instead cut and straight-lined so that it sort of curved down to her neck. And it was noticeably bleach-blonde. Her lips were more full than Lara had imagined, yet it was more than that which drew most attention. Her lowerbody was sheathed in a pair of exotically tight black leather pants, which were slung low to reveal the sluttish rise of an underwear's black strings curving up over her pelvic ridges. Her belly was tone and fit as usual, soft-skinned but with an obvious sparkle at the naval; there was a gleaming onyx bead bellybutton-ring. And to accentuate Amanda's striking satanic theme she wore a short black-lace tanktop with a faint white undershirt.

Then there were her eyes. To Lara, out of the 110 pounds of revealing skin and beauty, it was Amanda's striking sage eyes that drew her own. They reminded, now, of Lara's prior encounter with the jaguar. _Oh, how she has changed,_ Lara thought, unfortunately, and remained to wish that the 'old Amanda' would in any day return.

In Amanda's clutches was a silenced Beretta 92FS pistol. She handled it, as if fiddling with her nails, but never brought it to an aiming stance. Not _yet_.

"How…?" Lara started, staring into her long-lost friend's eyes.

"Am I still alive?" Amanda blurted, with the slight presence of a smile.

"It's impossible…I—"

"You just didn't look hard enough, Lara." Amanda interrupted. "Whatever you did…or, lack there-of…just was not _enough_."

"No," Lara said, her eyes calming from a fiery anger. Her grip on the pistol pressed to her human-shield's temple also loosened. "I _tried_…trust me, Amanda—I wouldn't have let-up on you—"

Amanda's burst of laughter once again halted Lara in her own words. "Lara, Lara, Lara…look, it doesn't matter now anyways; I'm here, well alive, and you're off as plenty wealthy as you were before, doing God-knows-what." Amanda paused, unscrewing the thick silencer on the pistol. "I guess the thirty-some guards weren't enough for you, Lara?"

"I've dealt with armed men before."

"As always…" Amanda murmured.

"Look, let's cut to the chase, Amanda…" Lara said, speaking to the hostage's left side; her voice grew louder, so that she was practically yelling in his ear; yet he remained still as ever. "_Why_ are you here? _What_ are you doing!?"

There was a pause as Amanda dropped the silencer to the floor below her.

"And," Lara blurted, "what is it about this _macana_!?"

A look of surprise swept over Amanda. "Oh…so it seems like one of my boys shed some light on the situation for you, didn't he?"

"_Yes_, and unfortunately got _killed_ for it!" Lara barked. "What has become of you, Amanda?"

"Actually, Miss Croft—_I_ have evolved into a more intelligent specimen of tomb-raider."

"And what is that?"

"Knowing what to _do_ with valuable pieces of ancient—"

"Amanda!" Lara bayed, "They're _priceless_ artifacts of our history! Especially weapons of great power…"

"Oh, Lara you have yet to learn…as children we always discovered artifacts and kept them to our own amazement." She paused. "Well, we were _foolish_ back then."

The fourteen men surrounding Lara and her human-shield continued with their sturdy aiming.

"I don't want to _bother_ with the hassle of using such a tool…hell, who _knows_ what may come of it."

"So…" Lara seemed confused, her eyes watering; or were they tears? "…what are you doing, then?"

"What do you _think_, Lara?" Amanda exclaimed, turning around and bending over. Two seconds later she came back with the pistol snug in the front of her pants—and an odd object in her clutches. It was about two-and-a-half feet long, three inches wide and half an inch thick. It was made out of grey stone, looking extraordinarily heavy—and yet Amanda handled it with ease. Along the length of the thinner edge on both sides were chunks of sharp obsidian making it a true blade; Amanda, meanwhile, clutched what appeared to be a handle and hilt of some sort, yet still made out of pure Aztecan stone. But what amazed Lara the most, dazzling in her eyes, were the green lights pulsing along the façade of the blade. There were six flat squares of glowing sage light along both faces of the blade.

"Know what this is, Lara?"

"The…_macana_?"

Amanda nodded. "The "Macana of Mixcoatl." A powerful weapon of the ancient Aztecan god of war, representing all his might and fury within the blade…"

_Oh my God…_ Lara's eyes widened, her eyes once again drawn in by the glowing green lights lit up along the stone blade.

"True, the classic macana is a _wooden_ sword with obsidian fragments—but _this_, Lara, is far more than a mere sword." She paused, grinning. "_This_, Lara…is my path to ultimate wealth."

Then it hit Lara like a bullet. "You—you're going to _sell_ it?"

"To the highest bidder…I don't believe any of the bids will be lower than a few million, if not more, so feel free to come and visit me sometime—even though you'll be _dead_!" Amanda punctuated with a shout of anger, yet cynical laughter, ordering her men to shoot. Lara's eyes remained fixated on the large stone macana, its obsidian fragments glinting beneath the artificial light sources attached to the ceiling above; she followed it even as reports sounded, until it somehow secured to Amanda's back—and she unholstered her pistol.

Lara bolted.

She was half-sorry and half-not as her hostage dropped to his face, his body frontal riddled with bullets. Lara fired off four rounds to her right, taking down two men instantly. Then she slid to a halt behind stacks of crates. The crates on the floor, large ones reaching up a couple feet, were immovable impenetrable steel; the ones stacked atop of those, however, were frail wooden boxes. Lara used what cover she had, though, and was lucky she hadn't been immediately torn-up by the dozen men around her. Lara whipped out her other UCP and prepared for action. Just as a wooden crate exploded above her into tiny splinters, Lara spun on the soles of her boots to face her left; there she caught a trio of men on surprise. One had begun to approach, and got three rounds to the chest; the other one was killed with a precise shot to the forehead—and the second got it 'light' for the time being.

Lara rolled, somehow dodging a spray of 9mm rounds from the man's SMG, then shot her right leg upwards in a sharp motion. The man dropped his submachine gun, clutching his crushed groin, then falling to his knees.

_Boys are still boys,_ Lara told herself with an internal smile.

Meanwhile hot lead was flying all around her, filling the air with a fetid stench she had gotten used to over the years. Lara found herself, nonetheless, back on her knees behind the crates.

"_Kill her_!" Lara's ears toned in for Amanda's bellowing order, and somehow managed to catch the stifling trace of her footsteps nearby.

Then, finally, the gunfire ceased, and that familiar sound of click-clacking begun. _Reloading_. Lara took this as the perfect time and shot up from her nearly-obliterated cover; _You__ boys are _pathetic_; where _did_ you find them, Amanda?_ Lara's mind was clogged with all sorts of thoughts, even as she approached a threesome of reloading mercs. She shoved the muzzle to one of their temples and quickly pulled the trigger; the bullet passed through his brain only to instantly kill the other at his heels. The third, his face sprayed with blood, was shell-shocked. His feet were frozen to the floor, yet his hands continued fumbling with his weapon and ammunition.

Catching a blurring glimpse of men crowding behind her and that of the attractive Amanda fleeing, Lara spun on her heel—simultaneously knocking the reloading man unconscious with a roundhouse kick. Her arms were held up, fingers already pulling back the triggers.

A few of the mercenaries, having for some reason completely disregarded Lara and turned to follow Amanda—got bullets to the chests consequently. Each one dropped lifelessly to the stone floor.

And then a hail of assault rifle gunfire barraged Lara's position, and she had no choice but to _move_. Her feet carried her through a sleet of 5.56mm rounds, luck and agility on her side. But, mostly _luck_. Lara holstered both pistols and spun in midair as she crossed a gap leading to abyss, catching the last glimpse of Amanda's back fleeing down sets of frozen traps. And then Lara made a mistake. She attempted to detach the SMG from her belt and take it to fire, but she was retarded in midair—and thus she _dropped_. Her back slammed into the other side of the gap, her spine popping against the stone ledge. She felt the MP5A4 slip from her fingers and fall silently into the pitch black abyss below her. Lara continued to fall, and then her hands—scratching at the mossy walls—finally caught something.

A _vine_.


	9. Trapped

T**rapped**

Her body was stopped abruptly in midair, her semi-gloved hands gripping tightly the thick emerald vine. She tugged upward, but found herself winded and ultimately fatigued. Her arms ached, and her back pained.

She was trapped for the time being—if not 'til her death—a prey to the underlying abyss.

"Zip!" Lara barked in a whisper through her headset. "Zip!"

Then she realized it was not even on, and she had to risk the loss of one hand. Her fingers swiftly released their grasp on the vine and flicked on the headset. It blared in her ear the first moment, then settled with the long-lost frequency.

_"Lara!"_ Zip's voice was loud and filled with worry. _"Lara! You read me!?"_

"I'm here…" Lara's own voice was muffled by fatigue and pain. "I'm here…"

_"You okay?"_

"No…I—"

_"Lara! You're __going__ in-and-out…"_ Lara could hear Zip's voice fading away, then coming back. _Bad signal all the way down here,_ Lara thought evidently.

"Zip!" Lara's boosting volume made her voice echo in the pit of darkness. She could barely even see herself, either. "Listen to me! I am _trapped_ in a deep pit somewhere far below the Aztec ruins!"

Zip's voice vaguely confirmed.

"I need _immediate_ help!" Lara shouted. 'Evacuation, _rescue_!" She paused, licking her lips, "I cannot hold on much longer, Zip! Please send someone…just follow the straightaway path leading from the lower level—you saw the hole in the gutter!"

Zip's reply awaited a few seconds, and then he yelled back: _"Yes, Lara! I saw it! But…"_ He paused again. _"__Oka__y, Lara! Help is on the way…"_

Lara's head hurt; her temples were throbbing and her heart was nearly beating out of her chest; or, perhaps, it was slowing down—_too much_. "E.T.A.?"

_"What?"_

"E.T.A.!?" Lara felt suddenly lightheaded, and realized saliva was streaming over her bottom lip. Her eyes rolled, eyelids flickering.

_"Lara,"_ Zip's voice came back online. There was a long pause. Through the headset, though Lara had toned out now, the sound of Alister and Winston's voices came over. There was a slightly-audible murmuring erupting, the voices startled and with the hint of desperate worry. _"Lara! Hang tight, E.T.A. _thirty minutes_!"_ Lara's ears happened to catch the estimated time arrival before she faded back out; though barely conscious, Lara's ears clogged and her eyes rolled. _"Repeat, E.T.A __thir__—"_

The transmission went dead.

And before long, Lara would too.


	10. PickUp

P**ic**k**-**U**p**

"Hello!"

Lara's eyelids shot open, her fingers returned to full clutch on the vine, while her feet pinched together on the lower half. Her eyes bolted upward, and there she stared into the artificial ceiling light twenty feet above her.

"Hello!" The masculine voice repeated, then added after a pause: "Lara! _Lara_!"

"Hello!" Lara's jaws gaped and she bellowed. "I'm…down _here_!"

The man's footsteps tuned in to Lara's ears and she sensed him coming forward. Closer…_closer_—

"Lara!" His feet halted abruptly at the edge of the pit high above, accidentally kicking down pebbles and bits of dust. Lara bowed her head, shielding her face, then glanced back up after it had passed. Her eyes caught the shadowy figure's outline, yet his face was hidden by the slight darkness. But she didn't need to see his facial features to recognize the man; she knew him from the moment his voice echoed in her ears.

_Thank God,_ Lara thought. She shook her head, then, _No…thank _him

"Right here!" Lara shouted back up, the hint of a smile spreading across her tired face. "I'm—"

"I see you, Lara!" The man practically laughed. He was totally relived. "It's Hemingway! I've come to get you…just a moment, I'll get you up!"

Robert J. Hemingway, a very familiar man to Lara Croft. He served as her father's latest bodyguard and limousine driver, but after his death Hemingway felt troubled; he figured it was his fault, and thus meant to leave the Crofts forever. And he had, despite his close relationship with Lara, nearly but not quite as a boyfriend, always there to help, very friendly and respectful…but then he'd gone. Now, he was drawn back.

"Head's up!" He called down, dropping a line of thick rope. It fell right past Lara, then hung there. "Just a moment…"

Meanwhile, up-top, Hemingway hastily tried to find somewhere to anchor the rope. I _probably could pull her up myself,_ he thought, but didn't want to take any chances. Then-again, he also didn't want to wait any further; he was aware of how she had been hanging there, and therefore knew that at any moment she may just _drop_. Quickly, though, he found something; it was a cylindrical stone pillar, currently propping up a large stone platform overhead. He speedily tied it around the pillar, then returned to the edge, looking down upon Lara. "Alright, it's anchored! Pull up!"

Lara, in the meantime, had had enough of all this. She wanted to _get out_, out of under these damned Aztec ruins, get home, clean-up—and prepare. _Prepare for _what_, Lara?_ She asked herself as she reached over and clutched the hanging rope. Her brain throbbed against her cranium as she leapt over to the rope. She grasped it with both her semi-gloved hands and her boots, with crossed legs, and hastily began climbing upwards. _Prepare…for getting that Macana,_ Lara confirmed her thoughts as she ascended. Despite having been through all she has been lately, Lara's muscles were now worked up; she was glad that her long-lost _friend_ had come to rescue her, and glad that she now could throw the proper reaction to Amanda.

Finally she reached the top, the edge of the endless pit in which she had originally descended. Her fingers clutched the edge, and when she glanced up a muscular arm reached downward. The hand was open, palm's fingers outstretched. Then her eyes met with his, and for a moment they were frozen in time.

Then Lara slapped one of her hands into his, and Hemingway helped her up to her feet. But there she stumbled, nearly losing her footing—and fell…right into a hammock of flesh. Hemingway's worried face gawked at Lara, whom was terribly fatigued. He then sized her up, and for once eyed more her weapons than her protrusions and exposed skin.

"So," he said, helping her back to her feet. "You going to tell me all that has happened?"

"What has Zip told you?"

"Oh, that you came down here to the Aztec ruins…deep underground, first level through stream into a barred gutter with a hole seared into it—and then that you needed a rescue."

"Mmhm…a _rescue_…?" Then Lara thought back and in her head remembered what she had said. She sighed to herself. "So you hadn't any trouble getting down here?"

"No, actually…"

Lara remembered, then glanced at her watched. Indeed, E.T.A. approximately thirty minutes. But thanks to Hemingway's near location and relationship with the Crofts—he got here in twenty-two.

"…the traps, for what I supposed them to be, were all, like, stopped—shutdown or something. The one with the spinning razors…I guessed you had to traverse them to get _here_."

"I did."

_Of course,_ he thought, nodding. "Well, anyways, that was stopped and then just past that was open floor." He paused. "Having learnt something from the Crofts, I figured that it was a lil' suspicious…but, it turned out to be just solid floor."

"With a bunch of rolling spikes below that would bring you to a slowly-crushing death." Lara's words came out with speed, and then she smiled at the end. "But nevermind it…"

Hemingway looked troubled for a moment. "So…is it safe to—"

She smiled, patted his cheek with her right palm, and replied, heading towards the entrance/exit, "Sure thing…now, how did you manage to get here so fast?"

"In the area," he said slowly, glancing at Lara's buttocks as she ambled away. He couldn't help it. "I…"

The moment Lara glanced back to briefly face Hemingway, his eyes bolted up to hers and he continued with a slight tremble in his voice. "I was flying in the area, taking airborne shots—"

"In your jet?" Lara shot back, vaguely smiling. She had, for the most part, recovered. But she still longed for a cool shower and a tub of soothing water—_then_ get ready for work.

"_No_, actually…my _chopper_." He snapped, toothlessly smiling. Lara didn't see him; she continued out the opened gate.

As the two, now side-by-side, reached the seared gutter hole, Lara finally asked Hemingway a question she has been meaning to. And it wasn't what Hemingway had in mind, either.

"Hemingway," Lara said, looking him intently in the eyes.

"Yes, Lara?"

"Did you bring a weapon?"

He sighed.

"Like a gun, I mean?"

Hemingway pulled up his plaid shirt on his right side and revealed the sidearm pocketed into the edge of his cargo shorts. "It's a—"

"Glock nineteen…" Lara interjected; she was correct. "Couldn't you have brought something a lil' _bigger_?"

There was a pause of silence, nothing except their breathing and the streaming water at their feet.

"You _know_, Lara…I _do_ have bigger things, and I can show you them once we get back to—"

"_Your place?_" Lara laughed. "Take me home, because I need to get cleaned up and ready for what's next…"

"Wait, wait, wait, wait…one, _home_? You mean—"

"Croft Manor."

He nodded. "Okay, whatever…and, secondly, what do you mean _what's next_?"

"Don't worry about it; we'll talk once I have gotten cleaned up."

"By the way," Hemingway added, as they snaked through the underground passages—a separate way Lara had gone earlier. "Did y'all ever finish that helipad?"

Lara nodded with a smile. "Now, she said, take me to your _chopper_."

Lara was asleep, now. She had somehow managed to fall into a state of deep sleep within the thin-walled cabin of an airborne helicopter. Meanwhile, Hemingway flew his personal Bell-206 helicopter through the skies of New Mexico, knowing that the flight would indeed be a long one.

Hemingway could not help but scan Lara Croft, her perfect body and beautiful face, lying there—resting—in the passenger seat of her own chopper. He did not have any perverted intentions and was, afterall, in great respect to the Crofts. _Especially_ the daughter of whom he served; nonetheless, it seems like no one can avoid the temptation of Lara Croft…whether it be her eyes, her body, or her voice—she is always an enticing one, very difficult for men to pass by unnoticeably.

His eyes started at her feet, where there they slowly ran the length of her bare, dirt-blotted, athletic legs and thighs…subsequently her smooth, petite belly and afterwards her obviously-large chest, something every man is drawn to. But, mostly, his eyes connected with her own, despite them being closed. He also eyed her lips, those wonderful, plump, no-doubt luscious lips that he could only _imagine_ kissing.

That is, of course, since the last time he had kissed them; it has been years, though, since he has had the Croft beauty in his hands…

Hemingway only wished that day would sometime return.


	11. Home Sweet Home

H**ome**S**weet **H**ome**

The rotary blades of the helicopter continued to slice air as the vehicle slowly descended. Lara had been awake for a good twenty minutes ago, and now she was eager to plant her feet on land—that being, moreover, of her own home. Her boots smacked into the tarmac which made the helipad in the rear of the mansion, even as the blades and engine continued to go.

Then finally they ceased, and Hemingway stepped out and joined her as they jogged inside.

Alister and Winston were there to greet them, while Zip remained far inside the Manor at his circle of technology.

"I want to thank you _again_, Mr. Hemingway," Winston was saying with the bow of his head, "for taking our request on such short notice—"

"Oh, yes, of course Winston…Alister," Hemingway smiled. He knew and was in good relations with both Winston and Alister, but not quite Zip; Zip has had an internal love for Lara, although it was something that he of course never expressed. And, moreover, he felt that Hemingway was, indeed, going to _steal her away_. Hemingway, meanwhile, was not entirely certain about why Zip had something against him—and he never suspected his feelings for Lara. Yet at the same time, Lara believed that Zip was just trying to be merely _protecting_ of her—which, in all ways, he was. "Besides," Hemingway went on, now feeling the coolness beneath Croft Manor's high ceilings, and turning his gaze to the straightforward-looking Lara, "it was a matter of life or death—and I'm just glad it wasn't the latter…"

He spotted Lara's lips curl up on the left side for a hint of a smile.

---


End file.
